Free Exposure by Brandilyn Collins Page A

inside it since she moved in. As she reached the middle of her yard, an unspeakable thought rose in her mind. What if Hannah
was
in there — dead?
    A small moan pushed from her. Kaycee raced across the grass and drew up at the shed, hands clasped against her neck. Seconds passed before she found the courage to open the door.
    It squeaked on unused hinges. The smell of mold and dirt filtered out. Steeling herself, Kaycee looked inside.
    Empty.
    Relief overwhelmed her. She pulled back and let go of the handle. The door banged shut.
    She walked around to the rear of the shed. No Hannah.
    Back near the garage, Kaycee picked up her purse and overnight bag, chiding herself. How could she possibly think Hannah would come this far at night? Surely there were a dozen friends in her own neighborhood she could have run to.
    But she never made it
,
did she?
    Kaycee couldn’t allow herself to dwell on that thought. She needed to get in her house and call Ryan Parksley right away. And she didn’t need the distraction of worrying about some camera and a dead man.
    With resolve she thrust her key into its lock. She pushed open the door, intending to barrel inside — and a new wave of fright washed over her. Kaycee stopped, peering inside her kitchen like some orphan come to beg. No camera on the table. Nothing out of place.
    Heart scudding, she slipped into the house.
    The door closed behind Kaycee with finality, as if she’d just entered a tomb.
    She dropped her overnight case on the floor, her purse and keys on the counter. The room was too dark. Kaycee flung open the window blinds.
    We see you.
    The unknown “they” watched as she walked down the short hall off the kitchen. The feeling shivered her skin, but she pushed on. She needed to get to the list of Hannah’s friends in her desk drawer — the ones she’d called for the slumber party. She could imagine Ryan Parksley, beside himself, needing to hear from her.
    Kaycee slowed at the doorway to her office and surveyed the room.
    Everything looked normal.
    She walked to her desk and shuffled through papers from the bottom tier of a metal inbox.
There.
A list of eight friends. Kaycee sank into her chair and picked up the phone beside her computer.
    As she punched in the Parksley’s number, Kaycee remembered she had to finish her newspaper column today. She’d been about to start it last night when Hannah called, asking her to come over right away. The deadline was noon.
    How in the world could she possibly think to write?
    Ryan answered on the first ring. He sounded like a man on a tight wire. Kaycee read him the names. He’d already called every one.
    She closed her eyes, not knowing what to say.
    “She’d come to you first, Kaycee.”
    “I . . . wasn’t here.”
    “I know.”
    “And it’s so far. Hannah would be scared to death in the dark. I’m thinking she must have a new friend somewhere . . .”
    But who? Hannah confided in Kaycee about everything, and she’d never mentioned a new friend.
    Ryan breathed over the line. Kaycee could feel his despair. “It’s my fault,” he said. “Since her mother died, we’ve hardly been able to talk.”
    Anger twinged within Kaycee. He and Hannah couldn’t talk? Maybe because he’d shoved the memory of her mother aside in no time and rushed out to get married again. He should have been man enough to face his own grieving. Now he’d caused his daughter double the pain.
    “Is there anything she told you, Kaycee? Any place she mentioned where she might go?”
    Kaycee racked her brain. Trouble was, Hannah hadn’t wanted to be anywhere but with her. And Kaycee had told her no. If she’d only said yes — just for the night. This wasn’t Ryan’s fault, it was
hers
. “I can’t think of anything. I wish I could.”
    “Yeah.” The defeat in his voice was palpable. “Okay, well. Keep in touch if you think of something.”
    “I will. I’ll be looking for her, Ryan. She’s somewhere close, probably just scared to come